


Snow (in five acts)

by TriplePirouette



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Steggy Secret Santa 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:15:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28298127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriplePirouette/pseuds/TriplePirouette
Summary: Snow, Steve, and Peggy through the years, in five acts. For Tumblr’s TheAwkwardTerrier for the Steggy Secret Santa!
Relationships: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Comments: 16
Kudos: 49





	Snow (in five acts)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fluffernutter8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffernutter8/gifts).



> In order to remain happy and fluffy and avoid angst for my giftee, there’s no actual discussion of how/why Steve is with Peggy in Act 4 of the story. This can be both Endgame and/or Steve-survived-the-Valkyrie-Crash compliant. Insert your favorite headcanon  Also. This was supposed to be three parts. THREE. My brain decided it needed to be five. MERRY STEGGY-MAS!

Act 1: Childhood Memories

There was something kind of wonderous about the way the snow shut things down that Peggy loved when she was a kid. She could watch from her window and cross her fingers and hope enough accumulated that she wouldn’t have to walk to school and she could stay home.

Helping to clear the paths around the house was a small price to pay for what she gained the rest of the day. When she was young, she’d spend hours bundled up and playing in it, putting together groups of snowmen and making snow angels while playing in pretend magical worlds. As a teen it was a blissful chance to take a break from the people and the gossip and the deadlines of classwork and just sit in her room, quiet and alone, and read.

Snow meant her mother made it a point to make hot cocoa, it meant that there was a full English for breakfast before she had to go out and help clear the white stuff away. It meant that after they were done, she could curl up in that big quilt from her parent’s bed in front of the fire to get warm, getting lost in the crackling and popping of the wood while she nibbled on shortbreads that were always magically in the back of their cupboard on snow days.

It meant, for a day, her world was reduced to as far as she could walk in her snow boots, and she liked it like that.

It was magical, watching snow fall at night when the streets were clear and all she could hear was the rush of the wind and the crackling of the snow as it settled together. As far back as she could remember, she’d stay up as long as she could to watch it. All night, in some cases. She’d perch at her window, pulling over her dressing chair to kneel at the window pane, pressing her face to the cold glass. No matter how old she got, she never tired of watching the green grass and black pavement slowly turn white.

She was never sure what, if anything, she was looking for in the flurries, but she had loved sitting at her window for hours on end, watching the flakes drift down in their complicated dance.

~*~

* * *

Act 2: Through the Window

As a child, Steve hated the snow. He hated watching it swirl to the ground and build up because he knew he would never, ever be allowed to play in it.

He hated watching the other kids play, throw snowballs, build snowmen, because he wasn’t allowed to join them. He couldn’t breathe right in the cold air, and the stress of playing in the cold was too much for his heart, his doctor told him. Every year, they’d warned him against it.

He hated the next day, when the grit of the city turned the pristine white snow to black muck, melting into the sewers and making the streets look dirty until the next rain finally cleared everything out.

It was just another thing he didn’t get to enjoy. Another reason for him to stay trapped inside their apartment that never really got much warmer than outside, despite the rattling radiators. Another excuse for him to sit in his room, alone, while his mother slogged through the snow to get to work, walking back and forth with boots that never kept her feet dry.

As a teenager he learned to knit from the elderly woman across the hall to give his fingers something to do on the long, cold days, and to make sure his mother had warm hats and scarves and heavy, thick socks to go under her thin boots. (He knew the wool yarn cost more than Bucky said every time he brought him another skein, but Steve couldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth when he only had pennies to pay for anything.)

He hated that the snow made his mother struggle more.

He hated that the snow kept him away from his friends and school.

He hated that the snow looked so damn fun and magical and that just once, once he wanted to be able to go outside and enjoy it without having to overthink it.

If he had the choice, Steve would never see one single snowflake ever again.

~*~

* * *

Act 3: On the Front

Staring at their small encampment, only half shielded by trees and underbrush as the snow started to fall around them, their boots still sticking in the mud underfoot, Peggy was starting to reassess her love of snow.

She couldn’t imagine a time during the war when she stopped and actually enjoyed the flakes falling. That part of her life seemed to be a million years ago, seemed all of a sudden childish and foolish. Instead, the snow now instilled in her the dread of complications on the battlefield and last-minute changes to plans that could go horribly wrong.

No one said a word as the Commandos started setting up two-man tents as the wind started howling around them. The storm was moving faster than anyone had expected. Headquarters had radioed and told them to stay put, and even though the order made all of their hearts sink at the thought of trying to make it through the storm, they knew making camp was much better than getting lost in a whiteout.

Normally the tent rotation was simple: whoever was on watch was also sharing a tent with Peggy. This meant that Peggy managed to get a tent all to herself, and that the men were constantly swapping tents and bedrolls as they changed watches throughout the night to make this happen.

They’d never discussed it: the Commandos simply did it one night, without Peggy’s permission, and pretended she wasn’t talking when she complained the next morning. Their chivalry was quite lovely, even if she hadn’t asked for or even wanted it. She found out quite quickly she should be grateful that it kept her from Darnier’s snoring and DumDum’s smelly feet, amongst other things.

Tonight, she didn’t feel grateful as she started to set up her tent. Even with the blanket in her pack it would be bitter cold. This was weather men lost toes in. This was weather men didn’t wake-up from.

“Two-man watches so no one’s sleeping alone,” Steve declared as he got a fire rolling in a small pit he dug down to dry dirt. “Keep the fire going and keep coffee on. You get tingling or numbness, you get up and take a lap. We leave with the same number of men, and same number of toes, that we came in with, go it?” They all nodded and kept going about their routines: digging out the snow and mud to get to solid ground which was only slightly warmer, setting the tents on top of that, staking them to the ground then setting up whatever they could find in the way of logs and branches to keep them from sitting in the snow while they ate and were on watch.

Steve sat next to Peggy as she ate her dinner, a tasteless concoction from a tin that’s only saving grace was it had been warmed over the fire, even if the snow falling in it as she ate seemed to cool it down with each passing second. “I’ll stay in your tent with you, if that’s all right?”

The red in his cheeks wasn’t from the chill in the air, or the exertion from putting up the tents. It was from his asking about their sleeping arrangements. She turned her head, smiling at him as the red crept up his cheeks and neck and into his ears. He didn’t look at her, just concentrated on his own tin of warm stew.

It seemed silly of him to bother asking when just two days ago he had her up against a wall behind the munitions building, his tongue down her throat and her legs wrapped around his waist, their hips griding together with his hand up her shirt and her hand down his pants.

She pressed the smile down, turning back to her tin and taking another mouthful. While she was sure at least _some_ of the commandos knew they were together, she didn’t think they all knew, or that no matter who knew it would be prudent to flaunt these things anywhere, least of all in the field. “I won’t turn down the body heat, if that’s what you’re offering, Captain.”

“Purely survival based,” he muttered around a mouthful of stew. Once he swallowed, he turned and looked at her, smiling. He stuck his spoon in his mouth to hold it before reaching out, dusting the snow out of her hair. He took the spoon back in his hand, for all the world looking like he wanted to kiss her. “Like I said, all men, and all toes, when we leave.”

Snuggling up with Steve in the small tent would have been much more enjoyable had it not been bitterly cold. They’d left all their clothes on, even their boots, and wrapped the thin survival blankets around them. When Peggy tried to snuggle her back to his chest, Steve unceremoniously, and quite awkwardly, flipped her around, tucking her head under his chin then coving her to her eyes with the blanket. “Gotta keep that nose warm,” he whispered, before leaning down and dropping a gentle kiss on it. “I like your nose.”

“Just my nose?” Peggy asked, snuggling close. She wasn’t any warmer yet, but at this point her goal was to just avoid getting any colder.

“All your parts, actually,” he whispered, palming the back of her head and holding her close. “But the nose was in danger there for a minute.”

“My hero,” she replied, rubbing her nose against the soft, exposed skin of his neck. He was warmer than her, and she hoped that meant in short order that heat would start radiating into her. “When’s our watch?” She asked, loathing the idea of getting out of her little cocoon full of Steve.

“No watch, the guys—”

Her head popped up, incensed, before he could even finish. “Why that is the most sexist and ridiculous—”

He pulled her back close to him, stopping her rant. “The guys need to be up and moving. They’re switching every two hours in two-man teams. You are the most likely, out of all of us, to lose a toe. Or a nose. You need to be kept warm. I’m the least affected—”

“Which is exactly why you should be out there,” she replied weakly. Despite being upset that they’d made special allowances for her, she was quite eager to not have to leave as his warmth was already seeping through to her.

“Which is why I should be in here with you, keeping you warm.”

After a moment, Peggy let the frustration go and snuggled closer into his embrace. “You know, I didn’t think Phillips will buy that.”

“I think in my report I might just forget to detail about who those two-man teams are,” he whispered back. “What he doesn’t know can’t hurt us.”

Peggy looked up at him. “You know, I used to love snow as a kid.”

“Now?” He asked, chin pressed to his chest so he could look down at her.

“Every time it’s a massive cock-up. Troop routings, information drops, supply runs, all gone to hell. I don’t think I like it as much.”

Steve leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead before leaning back and settling in. “I always hated snow. I was never allowed to go out and play in it when I was a kid, so I had to watch everyone from my window. Building snowmen, snowball fights… never got to do any of it. Mostly because as soon as I’d try to go outside like that, my throat would close up and I couldn’t breathe.”

Peggy yawned, finally warm, as fatigue started to get the better of her. “Good lord, how did you ever stay alive long enough for me to meet you?” 

“Fate, I think,” Steve mumbled, tucking the blanket back up so it covered her ears and most of her face. “Only explanation.”

~*~

* * *

Act 4: Peacetime

He disappeared. Again.

He always did this. Ever since the first snow when they’d had a house. He’d bundled up, picked up the snow shovel, and promptly disappeared for several hours.

That first year, she’d later found out, he spent the time shoveling out most of the block. He’d done their driveway and walk, then sent Mrs. Warren, the young widow across the street with two small boys, back in her house when he noticed her struggling with the heavy wet slush and had finished her walk and drive. And that had gotten him thinking about the Spencers, the octogenarian couple down the street and he’d been off, clearing their asphalt before they’d even noticed it had snowed.

The pictures the Warren boys drew Steve as a thank you hung on their refrigerator for almost three whole months, but the cookies from Mrs. Spencer barely made it a week before Peggy had eaten the last one.

It had been like that since the first snow, and Peggy thought it was unlikely to change. Steve would kit up, kissing her on the cheek before he left with his trusty snow shovel. She’d sit in front of the fire, a hot cup of tea and a warm blanket wrapped around her while she managed to work on whatever she could from home.

Whenever he returned, sweaty and cold and triumphant, she’d always help him out of his sopping clothes and find an _interesting_ way to get him warm again. That part was arguably the most fun.

She’d gotten to the point with this little ritual that she almost, almost liked when it snowed again.

Except today, Steve had gone out nearly five hours ago and she couldn’t see him anywhere on the block. It wasn’t that she needed him, exactly, but she was starting to get worried. Just a little. He’d never left the little suburban block without telling her where he was going. She tried to focus on the expense report in front of her, but after another hour, she knew she couldn’t.

She bundled up, layering pants and socks and jackets until she felt a little like an overstuffed marshmallow when she bent over to tie her boots. Out in the crunching snow, probably a good eight inches she estimated, with the last flakes still falling, she couldn’t find hide nor hair of him. All of the usual paths were cleared: the Spencers and the Warrens were clean and clear, as was the driveway of their newest neighbors, the Smiths, a young couple that had infant twins and looked haggard on a daily basis. She saw another clear driveway down the block, she couldn’t remember their names but the husband had a kind face and an old war injury that made the winter shoveling difficult for him. Steve had made his rounds, that was for sure, but she had no idea where to even begin to look for him.

She turned left, stepping cautiously on the slick sidewalk as she headed toward the main road. Every once in a while, especially when there was a lot of snow, he’d make his way up there and shovel out the sidewalk in front of the park and the stairs towards the swings for the kids.

Now that she thought about it, she was sure she’d find him there today. The Warren boys, now just a few years older and a bit taller but no less excited about snow than they had been that first year, had been talking to Steve two days ago about their new sleds.

She crossed the main road carefully, nearly losing her balance on the icy patches by the corners where the town’s plows had come through. She couldn’t help but smile as she approached the park and heard the commotion.

The sleds had long since been forgotten, though she could see the tracks in the hill on the far side of the park that told her the sleds had been put to good use. At the base of the hill, spread out behind swing sets and benches and walls constructed of snow, were most, if not all, of the neighborhood children, split into what looked like four teams, strategizing as they set up mounds of snowballs.

And there was Steve, with a group of the youngest kids, showing them just how, exactly, they were going to win this battle. The children looked up at him in awe, nodding along as he gave them directions. A little girl, no more than seven with braids peeking out of her beanie, was shoving well made snowballs into her pockets, seemingly unaware that they were crushing into piles of nothing in her pockets and would be useless once she ran into battle. The little boy next to her was struggling to fix a mitten that’d managed to fall off his hand but get stuck in his sleeve. Without missing a beat, Steve continued to explain their plan of attack while wiping the snow off the boy’s hand and gently slipping it back into the mitten.

Her heart ached for the picture he made, for the sweet, gentle excited energy she could nearly feel flowing off of him as he made sure the smallest of the small were able to take part in the festivities. It seemed very, very right to her.

From the far edge of the park a teenage boy stood and yelled out. “Do you yield?”

“Never!” Shouted a teenage girl as she stood for her group atop a bench. “The sovereign state of Winter Wonderland stands against the enemy!”

“No!” Another, younger boy joined in from his group’s hiding place behind the slide of the swing set. “Toyland refuses to yield to the Gingerbread Empire.”

“Candyland does not yield!” yelled the youngest Warren boy, held high in the air by Steve, who was still crouched behind their make-shift snow blockade.

“Then prepare to perish!” The boy yelled, followed by the screams of battle as his team stormed up and around their snow fort, aiming armfuls of snowballs at any and every adversary they could see.

Peggy watched as the children clashed, wincing a bit at the sight as they came together and the memories it pulled up in her, but those feelings melted away as she watched Steve. He hung back by the tiny children’s snow fort, lobbing high and gentle snowballs out towards the younger kids who were staying on the fringes, who weren’t as aggressive as the teenagers in the middle who were pelting one another, but still wanted to be involved.

He made his way through the battle occasionally, picking up the little ones who had fallen on their faces and though they acted tough, needed an adult to wipe off the snow and tell them they were ok, and to help up the pre-teens who were so bundled that when they landed on their backs they were stranded like turtles.

There seem to be no rules, no winners, and no losers in the game. Peggy barely felt the cold as she watched them retreat to build new sets of ammunition and come up with new strategies, only to go about recklessly pelting one another over and over again.

Peggy watched as the game slowly stopped. The streetlights around her had come on. She’d barely noticed the light around her was now artificial until she’d seen the kids start to point at the lamps, stopping one another and gathering their things before heading out of the park.

The younger kids saw it first and rushed to leave the park in their snowsuits, then the older kids threw one last snowball before they dropped out of the game and ran to collect their hats and sleds.

Steve was the last one, laying lost scarves and mittens on benches so they could be found easily in the morning, picking up his shovel and running it over the paths one last time. It wasn’t until he was much closer to Peggy that he actually looked up and saw her. He took a few running steps, reaching her and kissing her soundly.

She smiled as he leaned away, running her gloved hands over his mussed hair, trying to put it to some kids of rights.

“How long have you been here?” Steve asked, leaning on his shovel.

“Oh, for a bit.” She took his hand and gave a tug, starting them home. “I started really paying attention right around the time Candyland tried to annex the Winter Wonderland Territory.”

Steve nodded his head, swiftly leading Peggy across the street. “The little ones are savage. They cry if they fall down, but as long as they’re right side up, look out.”

Peggy laughed, wrapping her free arm around Steve’s bicep, holding tight and staying close as they made their way home though the tightly shoveled paths. “I’ll stay vigilant in their presence.” She sighed softly. “That was very sweet, you helping the little ones.”

“It ,uh,” he took a deep breath, the tips of his ears turning pink with the confession, “it was actually a lot of fun. I never got to do anything like that when I was a kid, you know?”

She took a skipping step to hop up and kiss him on his chilled cheek. “Well, I loved watching. It was very paternal.”

His whole face blushed, and he avoided having to reply to the comment by maneuvering Peggy over a block of ice. “So,” Steve changed the subject, looking down at her with a knowing smile as they started walking again. “You missed me.”

Peggy rolled her eyes, but couldn’t get the smile off of her face. “You were gone a very long time, I had to make sure you weren’t stuck in a snow drift somewhere.”

The knowing and teasing tone only grew as he smiled more, holding Peggy’s hand tight as they carefully moved over another icy patch. “So, you were _worried_ about me?”

Peggy leaned away, feigning indifference as she swung their hands between them. “I was only worried about who would shovel my driveway if you were gone. That’s it.”

Steve stepped in front of her, a few houses away from their own, stopping her. “Who would shovel the driveway?” he accused teasingly as he stood the shovel up in a bank of snow.

Her eyes sparkled, the back and forth starting to warm her from the inside out. “Absolutely.” Peggy crossed her arms, smirking at him. “Only thing I was concerned with.”

Without preamble or warning, Steve ducked, slinging Peggy over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, holding her by the knees with one hand as he grabbed his shovel in the other. Peggy let out a squeal of surprise as he settled her, moving forward towards their house. “I guess I better show you how to shovel a driveway, then, Mrs. Rogers.” Steve teased.

Peggy pressed her hands against his hips, stabilizing herself and trying to look back at him. “Me? You want me to shovel?”

Steve laughed heartily, shaking her. “That’s where you draw the line? Firefights, jumping out of planes, spying behind enemy lines, no problem, but shoveling a driveway is too hard?”

“I never said hard,” Peggy retorted as he walked them up to their front steps. Carefully he bent, placing her on her feet. “I could. If I wanted to.” She crossed her arms and tried desperately not to smile at him. She loved when he stood a step or two below her, like right now, his face level with hers. She leaned forward, kissed him softly, then pulled a glove off and fished her keys out of her pocket. She waited until she heard the click that the lock was open before she spoke. “I just don’t think shoveling snow is really the best activity for a pregnant woman, do you?”

She opened the door, pulling off her hat and leaning on the jamb, looking at him. “Well?”

The emotions danced on his face, from confusion to disbelief to excitement. In seconds his shovel was discarded in the snow on the front lawn and he bounded up the steps, sweeping Peggy up in his arms and twirling her into their living room.

“Steve!” She yelled, as he held her tight, watching them drip now across their entrance and into the living area. “The snow!”

“We can clean it later,” he mumbled as he let her slide down his body to her feet. “You’re serious?” he asked, sparks of hope shining behind his eyes. “Really?”

They’d talked about it, but not much. Enough to know that they’d both be happy to have a family, but they’d also both be alright if all they ever had was each other. Seeing how his eyes lit up, seeing the hope in his face and the way his body radiated excitement, she wished she’d been a little less glib about telling him now. She hadn’t really planned how, or when, she was going to tell him, but after seeing him with those kids… “Yes, I’m serious.”

He kissed her, hard, holding her tight in his arms, until he felt the cold tip of her nose pass over his. He pulled back, brow furrowing as he looked at her. “Jesus, Peg,” he whispered, moving to devest her of at least her outside layers. He stripped her gloves off, her scarf, and unzipped her jacket before she could even protest. “You’ve got to be freezing. You can’t be out there…”

“I’m fine.”

“…like this. You shouldn’t have been out there for so long.” He knelt down, untying her laces and she rolled her eyes, knowing there was no stopping him at this point. He lifted her and he mumbled about her taking better care of herself, placing her on the dry entrance mat as he quickly shrugged out of his own cold and wet clothes down to his long underwear.

Peggy laughed, him standing in his long johns and boots, his hair standing up at all angles, his eyebrows furrowed was such a sight that she couldn’t keep her composure anymore, even though she knew she couldn’t have looked much better.

“What?” he asked, still deadly serious.

Peggy smiled, reaching her arms out. He was holding her immediately, wrapping her in his much warmer, much drier embrace. “I’m fine, my darling.”

He let his hand move around her head, smoothing down her hair before he cradled her cheek, eyes still shining with awe. “You’re pregnant, Peg.”

~*~

* * *

Act 5: A year and three months later…

“Ok, I think I’m ready,” Steve declared, holding the heavy piece of machinery up to his face. “As long as it stays sunny out, we should be good.”

Peggy sighed, zipping up her coat. “You know he’s going to cry if you try to shine that godforsaken light on him again.” Peggy reached out and lifted their bundled son into her arms. “He hates that light.”

“I know,” Steve let the eight-millimeter movie camera fall to his side. It was large, and barely useful with indoor light which was why they had to use a large and very bright artificial one that scared their son, but being outside he shouldn’t have to use it today. It had been a gift from Howard, and Steve was determined to get all of his son’s “firsts” recorded on it. He leaned forward, kissing Peggy on the cheek. “But this is his first snow.” He turned to the four-month-old in her arms. “Isn’t that right, Mikey?” He let a finger smooth over the baby’s cheek and the boy cooed at him.

“All right, my darlings,” Peggy took a deep breath, “let’s do this.” She followed Steve out to the back patio, where he backed down the stairs to their small yard, holding his hand up.

Peggy waited until he had the camera up and signaled that it was rolling before she waved and bounced Michael up and down for the camera. Howard swore he was working on adding sound to it, but it didn’t matter all that much as Steve managed to meticulously label every single reel. Carefully she picked her way down the back steps and moved into the white wonderland. It was still flurrying, and Michael waved his hands, encased in his snowsuit, over his face as they tickled his nose.

“Oh, he likes it!” Steve exclaimed, looking up from behind the camera.

“I think the jury’s still out,” Peggy murmured, shifting him up to her shoulder to keep the flakes from falling in his face. She pulled the hood on his snowsuit up higher to shield his eyes more. She used her hand to wipe off his cheeks and he smiled at her. “Oh, ok, now that was a smile!”

Steve moved the camera closer, “Smile for posterity, Peg!” he called to get her attention.

Peggy turned and smiled, turning Michael to the camera, as well. The boy furrowed his brow, but smiled when Steve popped his head up. Steve bent, grabbed a handful of snow, and held it out to his son.

Mikey let his mittened hand reach out and pat into the snow, smiling as the fluffy white flakes squished beneath him.

Peggy tilted her head, beckoning Steve to follow towards the back of the yard. She stopped, squatting down at the base of a tall tree. She sat Michael at the base of it, balancing him against the trunk of the tree.

Steve kept the camera trained on him, not wanting to miss a minute of his son’s reaction.

“It’s snow,” Peggy whispered to Michael, “it’s cold and it’s when rain freezes.”

Michael reached out his mittened hand and hit the ground, the snow popping up the same as it did before. He tried again, tentatively.

“Yeah, buddy,” Steve gently encouraged, holding the camera steady as he moved from behind it and swirled his hand in the soft snow.

Michael, emboldened by his parents, reached out both hands to the tiny mound of snow and smacked it, sending the cold flakes into his face. He sputtered, blinking his eyes and faltered, toppling gently to the side.

Steve dropped the camera in the snow and quickly righted his stunned son. “You’re ok, buddy.”

Michael sniffled, looking back and forth between his parents before he broke out into wails, big fat tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

“And, we’re done,” Peggy mumbled, reaching out and taking him into her arms and standing, wiping the snow away from his cheeks with her scarf. “You’re fine, my darling. Just a little chilly.”

She was well on her way into the house by the time Steve fished the camera from the snow. She passed Michael to him as she got herself out of her coat, then took the boy and stripped him of his layers as Steve took off his own outdoor gear. “He doesn’t like it,” Steve muttered glumly as he dried the camera off and set it aside.

“Oh, give him time,” Peggy bounced the cranky boy in her arms. “It’s cold and wet and he’s never seen it before. A couple of years, some hot cocoa, and a snow man and he’ll be in love, I assure you.”

Steve kissed the boy’s head, then his wife on her chilled lips, smiling happily. “Sounds like a plan.”


End file.
